Walk That Mile
by AdoreGube
Summary: Klaine, Quick: Kurt & Quinn made it to NYC. They dreamt, they lived, and now they long for something more. What they find may not be what they had in mind, but it's more than enough for them.
1. Bound To Linger On

**[A/N} **_This is a collab between adoregube & soratanaka here at FFN. It's focusing on Klaine and Quick with small mentions of Brittana. The rest of the ships are also mostly canon._

_In this fic, Kurt and Blaine never met during High School, but they_ have_ met. The same goes for Quinn and Puck. Blaine and Puck are best friends, and Kurt and Quinn are also best friends. Blaine is a bit like Puck, that kind of badboy, but extremely random and adorkable. Quinn is a bit random, but just think that she's herself for once. Beth never happened, and New Directions and The Warblers never competed against each other._

_Also, please note we're not native English speakers, and soratanaka tries to keep dialogues at American, but she knows she fails big time._

**{Walk That Mile}**

"_So we're bound to linger on  
>We drink the fatal drop"<em>

– _Kleerup ft. Lykke Li, Until We Bleed_

Kurt was lying on the bed, lazily reading Jane Eyre for the second time; after all, he should welcome the rare moments without his boyfriend Jack breathing down his neck every other minute. He didn't hate Jack per se, but he couldn't deny that the elder had become rather obsessive about Kurt's whereabouts; something that annoyed Kurt because honestly, he was 24 years old. He could take care of himself; he didn't need to be babysat.

His eyes were starting to droop slightly, but he was jerked back to reality as the ever so familiar voice sung from the bathroom.

"_Sweet dreams are made of this_," the voice sang happily, and Kurt could practically _hear_ the smile on the lips. "_Who am I to disagree? Travel the world and the seven seas; everybody's looking for something!_"

"Q; please lower your voice before I am forced to throw something at your head, which would probably be this book!" Kurt called over his shoulder, forcing himself to concentrate on the words.

The bathroom door opened and out came Quinn, dancing silly steps into Kurt's room.

"_Some of them want to use you!_"

"Quinn—," Kurt began warningly, his eyes darting towards the blonde woman.

"_Some of them want to get used by you!_"

"Do you _want_ to get a book in your head?" Kurt raised a brow questioningly.

"_Some of them want to abuse you!_" She raised her voice, pointedly provoking Kurt with a silly smile.

"You make me want to abuse you right now, to be honest," Kurt drawled, closing the book with a slam. "One more tone, and your head will be introduced to Jane Eyre."

"Aw, come on, _Kurtsie_, we both know you don't mean that," Quinn said, moving towards the wardrobe. "_Some of them want to be abused!_"

_Thunk!_

"_Ouch_!" Quinn's hand grabbed the now sore spot on her neck and she turned around to glare at her flatmate. "_Kurt_! What was that for?"

"I warned you," Kurt snorted, pushing himself up to sitting position. "It's not _my_ fault you don't know what's better for you."

"Well, at least I'm living my life instead of staying in here like a self-convicted prisoner," Quinn remarked, turning back to her wardrobe. "Or somewhere else, locked up by an overprotective boyfriend."

Kurt sighed exasperated. "Why won't you just try to get along with him at least?"

"You can't say I never tried," she replied. "I was being polite, and he was being an ass."

"_Quinn_!"

"Stating the truth is all!"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he crossed his legs and looked at Quinn as she tried to find an outfit.

"So what are you up to?" He asked, mildly curious.

"Out with Santana and Britt." She paused for a moment as though she considered something, and added: "You should come with us."

"No," came the immediate response. "I don't do 'outs'. They usually end with 'drunk' and 'throwing ups'," he drawled.

"No, seriously," Quinn said and turned around. "You're always busy with school or with a musical or with _Jack_," she grimaced at the name, "or you're just withering away inside here doing nothing productive. At least you should go out from time to time; meeting the world and its surprises!"

"I said no," Kurt argued. "I've got better stuff to do."

"Like what?"

"Like personal stuff."

"Like what?"

"Like you know what."

"Masturbation?" she asked while she mimicked being a boy doing the act.

"_Quinn_!" Kurt exclaimed scandalised.

"Gay porn?"

"_What!_"

"_Sweet dreams_ about Johnny Depp?" Quinn's eyebrow raised questioningly.

"_Stop it_!"

"Or is there something else?" Quinn smirked. "Don't think I don't know you secretly watch the re-run of Queer As Folk."

Kurt's eyes actually widened slightly as his cheeks tinged scarlet red.

"I do _not_!" Kurt denied helplessly, crossing his arms. "It just so happens it's the only thing on TV when I actually get the remote control."

"But seriously, you should come out and _experience_ instead of wanking off to some TV series."

"I've got a boyfriend, Quinn. It'd be most inappropriate for me to _experience_ with other people."

"Then just come with us anyway and drink soda," Quinn shrugged and took out a dress. "This good, you think?"

Kurt glared at her. "You'd need the black heels for that dress," he snarled. "The very same heels that you so _conveniently_ forgot at Jack's so that you could _conveniently_ surprise visit and threaten him."

"You've got no proof," Quinn sang merrily, almost sounding like Sue Sylvester. She picked out a white dress instead. "This good with the red heels?"

"Sure, why not?" Kurt replied, still annoyed by her persistence. "And _no_, I won't go with you even if my life depended on it."

"And if my life depended on it?"

"It doesn't."

"Jack's?"

"Doesn't."

"Your mum's?"

"She's dead, Q," Kurt stared at her blankly.

"Exactly."

"What?"

"You're coming with me, even if I'd have to drag you to Hell and back. You need to get out, loosen up a bit, alright?"

"I don't do 'loosen up'," Kurt reminded her childishly. "I prefer staying at home in solitude."

"You sound like a serial killer or something," Quinn chuckled but then turned serious. "But Kurt, I'm serious here. I want to have you with me sometimes. It's been _ages_ since last time—"

"And look how well it went," Kurt said sarcastically, remembering getting covered with Quinn's dinner after it had been swallowed. "I don't want that to happen again. I wore Calvin that day."

"I don't remember that ever happened," Quinn stated.

"I wonder why."

Quinn moved towards Kurt and let herself fall onto her knees. "But _please_ come with me, Kitty Kurt," she begged and Kurt could literally see her face transforming to a puppy's.

"No," Kurt remained stubborn. "And seriously, 'Kitty Kurt'?"

"_Please_," Quinn continued, ignoring Kurt's last remark. "I'll never touch your stuff without asking first!"

Kurt snorted. "Like that'd ever happen."

"I'd be happy?" Quinn tried another tactic. "And I'll do my best to be nicer to Jack."

"Which, if I may remind you, you should anyway," Kurt pointed out.

"Aw, _come on_, Kurt!" She exclaimed and flung herself against him and let them fall on the bed with a muffled _thump_. "I'll tickle you if you don't!"

Kurt's eyes widened. "You wouldn't—"

"Watch me!" Quinn's hands moved towards his torso – very sensitive torso – and Kurt could already feel the hands even if they were inches away.

"Nononono_no_!" Kurt pleaded, trying to squirm away from her touch. "I'll go with you, I'll go with you, alright! Anything but this!"

She stopped her intentions and smirked, clearly satisfied with her achievements. "That's my Kurt." Patting his forehead as though he was a dog, she rose from the bed and went over to his wardrobe. "Whatcha gonna wear, Kitty?"

**{Walk That Mile}**

Kurt seriously regretted every agreeing to this. Whilst Quinn and the others were having the time of their lives, Kurt had to deal with a clingy 50 year old man who was convinced Kurt was his dead wife.

"Christine, I've missed you so much," the drunk slurred for the fifteenth time. "You have no idea how tough it is without you."

Kurt sighed exasperated, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sir, for the last time; I'm _not_ your wife. I'm sorry for your lost, but—"

"What am I supposed to do without you?" The man broke down in tears, grabbing his beer as though his life depended on it – which it probably did, Kurt mused.

Kurt turned to Quinn. "Q, I'm heading over to the drinks, OK?"

Quinn, oblivious to his unwanted attention, smiled brightly. "OK! Go get drunk and loosen up a bit!"

Kurt sighed again, but darted towards the drinks. He had no intention of getting drunk, but he needed at least _something_ to escape that confused man.

Sometimes he wondered why people always assumed he was a woman. On phone, he could understand. He was, after all, very used to it. But in person, Kurt didn't think he looked like a girl.

Perhaps it had been the woman looking like a man, he mused as he caught the bartender's attention.

"A tequila shot," Kurt said before jumping in surprise.

"Well, well, well," a voice came from his left, "if it isn't Mr Kurt Hummel."

The voice was familiar, but Kurt wasn't really sure whom it belonged to. Turning, he wished he had stayed home with Jane Eyre and her poor life.

"By the way, Kurt," Quinn's voice caught their attention as she moved towards them, "can you get me a beer? Oh—who's this, _Kurt_?" She stressed his name as she leered at his new-found companion. "Someone special?"

"Oh!" Kurt's eyes widened as he froze. "No, no, it's just an old acquaintance, is all," he smoothed out the uncomfortable situation.

"For me it wasn't," Blaine Anderson smirked, his finger tracing his jaw suggestively. "For me, you were _more_ than just an _acquaintance_. And I'd like to pinpoint how much we actually _got along_, if you get my meaning." He winked.

Winked.

"Kurt?" Quinn turned to the blushing young man.

"This is just—" Kurt began.

"Blaine Anderson," Blaine interrupted, the smirk still tugging at his lips.

"—a cocky bastard," Kurt muttered, accepting his drink from the bartender. He asked for a beer for Quinn, before coming back to the awkward moment 2.0.

"So, _Kurt_," Quinn said pointedly, raising her eyebrow. "What have you so conveniently forgotten to tell me?"

"It's nothing," Kurt sniffed.

"Haven't you told?" Blaine gasped scandalised. "I thought I meant more to you than that."

"_Kitty Kurtsie_," Quinn hissed, and Kurt could swear she'd grown a pair of horns. "What is that you haven't told me?"

"It's no—"

"Well, I'd like to break the news," Blaine interrupted.

"Don't—," Kurt began warningly.

"Do tell," Quinn encouraged him happily.

"We fucked," Blaine proclaimed, raising his glass in the air. "Or rather, I fucked him. Hard."

"_Anderson_!"

"Oh, on last name basis, are we?" Blaine raised a brow. "Not what I'd expected after having you moaning my name."

Quinn chuckled and grabbed Kurt's arm. Whispering something in his ear, he blushed furiously red.

"_Quinn_! I've got a boyfriend! I don't do cheating."

"Well, he's hot," Quinn muttered.

"Why, thank you," Blaine said, drinking the compliment. "But seriously, _Kitty Kurtsie_, a boyfriend? Ickle Kurtsie finally got settled down? And not on my cock. I'm impressed."

"I've had guys before you!" Kurt exclaimed indignantly. "I'm not some kind of lay-around."

"Sure, why not," Blaine shrugged. "But don't deny you miss it," he continued, moving his hips suggestively.

"I think I'll just go back to Santana or something," Quinn informed them, looking at Kurt pointedly as though to say '_dump Jack, or else_', before leaving with her beer.

There was an awkward silence hanging between them, before Blaine broke it.

"You still spread your legs?"

"_Anderson_," Kurt sighed. "I've got a boyfriend."

"So you've said. Does it matter?" Blaine winked.

"Yes?"

"Don't tell me you've up and gone all relationship guy, Kurt," Blaine whined. "So what's his name?"

"Jack."

"Jackass?"

"Sorry?"

"His name. Jackass? Blaine smirked and finished his drink.

"His name's _Jack_, Anderson. Don't be stupid."

"Stupid for you!" Blaine stopped for a moment as _Disco Pogo_ was being played. "Wanna dance?"

"I've got a boyfriend," Kurt said for the third time. "I don't dance with other guys."

"What? He'd get jealous or what? Come on, Kurt! It's just a dance, is all," Blaine whined and dragged Kurt off the chair, ignoring the fact he hadn't finished his drink.

"No! _Blaine_, I don't think this is a very wise idea—"

"Scared?" Blaine's eyes had softened a bit.

"_No_! I don't want Jack to accidently walk in here and see us dancing."

"Come on, you're out on a club; dancing doesn't always mean something," Blaine argued and dragged Kurt out on the dance floor. "Do your best!"

With that, Blaine started dancing – or whatever It was called when a person flung his body at different directions, Kurt added mentally.

"I don't dance," Kurt deadpanned, standing awkwardly on the dance floor. "Especially with other guys when I'm in a relationship."

"Just—do the shake," Blaine shouted over the music.

"The—the what?" Kurt asked, not sure he wanted to know what the shake meant.

"You know, the last time we met?" Kurt cringed. "When you danced. You did this shake-thingy." Blaine mimicked Kurt's previous dance moves, and Kurt blushed red.

"I did that?" Kurt asked. "And I thought I wasn't that very stereotype gay kind of guy."

"Come on! You looked hot, alright?" Blaine's face broke into a smile. "Ready? Loosen up and have fun for a while, will you? Last time you were fun to hang out with. Dunno what's happened, but you've seriously got tightened to the leash."

"But I've got a boy—"

"A _boyfriend_, I know," Blaine said, shrugging it off as though Kurt had said the weather was nice. "That doesn't mean you can't have fun, does it?"

_What the hell_, Kurt thought. _Might as well enjoy myself for once_.

He tried to mimic Blaine's moves, feeling his heart racing because he had no idea a person could move his body like that. And he would lie if he said that Blaine wasn't hot.

Because he was; very much so. And Kurt didn't like it, at all.

The song changed to a slower one, and Kurt stiffened as Blaine flung his arms over his shoulder. Feeling Blaine's breath of alcohol and smokes, Kurt tried to move his face the other way – and sweet Gaga, please don't say that's an erection against his thigh. Looking down, Kurt found that Blaine had pressed his pelvis against Kurt and that the other had a very obvious hard-on.

Kurt closed his eyes. _Sweet Lord_.

"You said my name," Blaine mumbled against his neck.

"I did many times," Kurt said, trying to squirm away from Blaine's body.

"Not my last name, stupid. I meant you said '_Blaine_'. I like that."

Kurt stopped momentarily. He hadn't realised it had slipped. Stepping away, he tried to push Blaine away from him.

"Look, Blaine, I—I can't—_God_," Kurt breathed when Blaine sucked on a very sensitive spot on his neck. "No—Blaine, stop—"

"_Come on_, gorgeous," Blaine whined, his hands travelling south on Kurt's body. "It'll be like last time – better even."

_I've got a boyfriend, I've got a boyfriend, I've got a boyfriend_, Kurt chanted.

"I—No—" Kurt muttered, grasping Blaine's hands and dropped them away from his body. "I don't want it to be like last time. Remember? You left me," he reminded the drunken young man who tried to push himself against Kurt again, "and it wasn't a very nice way to leave either."

"Well, I'm _sorry_, if that's what you want me to say," Blaine slurred, grasping Kurt's button-up shirt. "Too many buttons," he muttered and tried to unbutton them.

"Blaine—no—stop it—I don't—_Goddammit, Blaine_!" Kurt raised his voice, pushing Blaine off him. "I'm serious, OK? I—I think it's better if I leave now."

He didn't wait for a response and walked out the club, trying to catch a cab. He texted Quinn about his whereabouts, that he was going home and that he hoped that the girls were enjoying themselves.

When Kurt came home, he fell asleep before his head hit the pillows. He hadn't even realised that he had fallen asleep, but when his phone was ringing, the time was 10 o'clock in the morning.

Groaning, Kurt answered the phone. "Yeah?"

"Good morning, sunshine!" A cheery voice answered. "You up for coffee today?"

Kurt groaned again, rubbing his eyes as he sat up in his bed. "I—coffee? When?"

"Yeah! Like, now?" Jack sounded too enthusiastic for Kurt to say no.

The fashionable young man sighed and rolled his legs off the bed. "Sure. I just need a moment to fix myself," he said as he noticed he hadn't even changed clothes before falling asleep. "Can you pick me up in 45 minutes or so?"

"Sounds great! I'll see you then," Jack agreed.

"See you then," Kurt repeated. "Love you."

"Love you too," Jack said and ended the call.

When Jack had picked him up and arrived at the local coffee shop, Kurt had finally started to wake up a bit. He stretched his arms above his head after he had gotten out of the car, yawning heavily before inhaling the morning breeze.

"So it's on me today," his boyfriend said as they walked through the doors. "You want the usual?"

"Of course," Kurt replied with a smile. "Always the usual."

It was apparently too early for people to grab a coffee, as there was almost no queue. When they finally reached the front line, the man behind the disk turned around with a goofy smile.

"So what can I get—," the man stopped and Kurt stared.

Blaine Anderson.

Well, fuck.

**[A/N} **_So that's it. We'd be extremely happy to read your thoughts about this. Would you want something specific to happen, perhaps? Quirky guesses? Also, updates _may_ be slightly irregular, as we write this for fun, not for obligation._


	2. The Truth I Must Tell

**{Walk That Mile}**

_"Oh, the truth I must tell is I'm lonely as hell_  
><em>Still looking for myself"<em>

_- The Summer Set, Where Are You Now?_

Blaine stopped midsentence and stared. It was just his luck to have to serve Kurt Hummel and what he would assume to be his boyfriend. Especially his luck to have to do it after last night's incident. He could literally see the wheels turning behind Kurt's eyes as he too tried to figure out what Fate had decided for them this time.

"Excuse me?" the other male snapped. "I'd like to order coffee now."

"Oh! Yes, right, sir," Blaine blinked and turned to face the tall, messy dark-haired male. "What would you like to have, then?"

"A Grande non-fat mocha for _my boyfriend_ here," he said, protectively grabbing Kurt around his hips. "Do you want something more for the coffee, Kurt?"

"No," Blaine snorted. "He doesn't want anything with his coffee." Noticing Kurt's glare that practically screamed; '_shut up, Anderson_', Blaine cleared his throat and looked over to Kurt.

"I mean, yeah, is there anything you want?" Blaine asked, a smirk tugging his lips.

"No," Kurt deadpanned.

"Right," Blaine said awkwardly and turned back to the other male. "And for you, sir?"

"Just a latte for me," he decided, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Blaine.

"Right away! You can just go ahead and sit down somewhere and I'll bring you the coffee."

The couple nodded and took a table and Blaine wasn't ashamed to admit he still liked Kurt's ass.

"Dude, what's wrong with you?" Puck's voice called from behind.

Blaine turned around and raised a brow. "What's wrong with you thinking something's wrong with me, _dude_?"

Shaking his head, Puck shrugged it off. "So a latte and a—what was it?"

"A Grande non-fat mocha," Blaine replied instantly. "And it _must_ be non-fat. Absolutely no fat allowed!"

Puck made a face and shook his head again. "Dude, you're totally on to that guy."

Blaine spluttered unattractively. "No, I'm not! Why would your perverted mind come up with something like that?"

"You checked out his ass."

"Well, it's a great ass!" Blaine proclaimed, throwing his arms in the air. "It's really tight, OK?"

Hearing Kurt clearing his throat from afar, Blaine turned his face and saw the other glaring at him fiercely.

"Anyway, here's the coffee," said Puck, holding the cups to Blaine. "Good luck!"

Blaine made a face but accepted the coffee nevertheless. He moved over to the Kurt's table with a huge grin.

"Here you go, sirs!" He said, placing the m on the table. "The restrooms are over there," he said to Kurt's boyfriend, trying to get some alone-time with Kurt. "Right behind that corner over there," he continued with a fake smile.

"What?" The man frowned.

"Right over there, if you need it," Blaine insisted. "You should probably go there now."

"What for?"

"To relieve yourself from the completely normal bodily needs!" Blaine smiled. "Go, go!"

"I don't need to," the man insisted.

"Well then," Blaine said and turned to Kurt. "The restrooms are over there! You should totally go over there now, to check out yourself. I'd do it if I was you." He winked.

"I don't need to, Blaine," Kurt deadpanned.

"A-ha!" Blaine exclaimed, shooting a hand in the air. "You said my name!"

"You know this mentally deficient idiot?" Kurt's boyfriend asked.

"Not really," Kurt muttered when Blaine said "Totally!"

Kurt glared at Blaine.

"So where did you two meet?" The boyfriend asked.

"Nowhere," Kurt muttered grumpily when Blaine said "At the bar!"

"At the bar, Kurt?" His boyfriend turned to the fashionable-nice-ass-male. "Did anything happen, hmm?"

"No," said Kurt, when Blaine shrugged, "Yep!"

There was a moment of silence before the boyfriend cleared his throat. "So, why haven't you told me about—" he looked over at Blaine's name sign, "Blaine Anderson?"

"Because he's no one special, Jack!" Kurt exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air. "Just someone from before your time."

Blaine started getting uncomfortable, so he turned around and called; "Did you shout my name, Puck?"

Puck looked at him as though he'd turned pink and shook his head.

"Are you playing with me?" Blaine asked, pointing a finger to him. "That's funny, Puck. You see me laughing?" He faked a laugh. "There it is. Yeah, so I better be going," he said to the couple. "See you around, Kurt!" He gave Jack a second glance. "Jack," he acknowledged him with a nod. Walking a way, he cleared his throat and muttered, "—ass." He chuckled to himself. "Good one, Blaine."

"What the fuck, Blaine?" Puck asked and threw him a cloth. "Never mind, I don't wanna know. Just clean the tables, will you?"

Blaine caught it with one hand and saluted with the other. "Yes, ma'am!"

Cleaning off the tables, Blaine had subconsciously moved closer to The Couple and overheard their conversation. How convenient.

"—it was nothing, Jack! It was before your time and I'm over it. It's not like _I'm_ jealous about _your_ exes!"

"He's an ex?" Jack snapped. "How nice of you for not mentioning it!"

_I'm an ex?_, Blaine thought and nodded to himself slowly as he cleaned a coffee spot. _Not bad._

"Not exactly an ex," Kurt sighed, pulling a hand through his hair. "It's just a one night stand."

"But you had feelings for him?" Jack prompted, narrowing his eyes at Kurt.

"Might've had. A few. Tiny. Small. At that time," Kurt shrugged.

Blaine spun around and shouted "Score!" but meeting Puck's glare, he continued to clean off the table.

"So you don't like him anymore?" Jack questioned him.

"Er—no?" Kurt said. "I mean, he's cool and all, but I'm with you, aren't I?"

Blaine frowned. It definitely sounded like a lie to him. Did Kurt like him?

"Goddammit, Kurt!" Jack exclaimed, slamming the coffee on the table. "It's not like you _don't_ like him. I can see it, 'cos I know you!"

"Well, it's not _my_ fault you're disillusioned and your mind comes up with whatnot! Do you _want_ me to like him?" Kurt snapped, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly.

"Of course not! What I want is to have a relationship with someone who can appreciate me for what I am!"

Blaine snorted. _Like someone would like that jackass._

"Well, at this moment I'm not sure I like you for trying to convince me that I like that guy!" Kurt snarled angrily. Blaine noticed a tinge of red on his cheeks and he had to admit Kurt looked hot like that.

"It's not my fault you're lying around like some kind of worthless piece of shit; like some kind of _whore_!"

Blaine slammed the cloth down on the table and walked up to Jackass. Pointing his index finger at the taller male's chest, he said; "We don't use that language in here, so get the fuck out!" His hand moved to point at the door. When Jackass didn't move, Blaine lowered his voice dangerously. "If you aren't outside this shop within five seconds, I will not be held responsible for my actions."

Kurt cleared his throat and placed a gentle hand on Blaine's arm, trying to calm him down. "Let it go, Blaine, I can handle it."

"Obviously you can't!" Blaine snapped, still not looking away from Jackass' eyes. "You let him push you down, and you may be able to handle it, but _I_ can't!"

"Please, sir, you need to leave," Puck interrupted and pushed Blaine away from the man. "And Blaine, you need to not get violent."

"Lemme go, Puck!" Blaine whined, trying to squirm away from Puck's hold. "Lemme take care of him, goddammit!"

"No," Puck said stubbornly. "And sir, if you don't leave now we'll be forced to call the cops. We don't accept that kind of language inside of here."

"What Puck said!" Blaine agreed, but stopped squirming when Jackass grabbed his coat. "That's right! And I don't wanna see your face in here again!"

Kurt moved to Jackass, trying to ease his boyfriend. "I'm coming with you, Jack."

"No!" Jackass snarled, raising his hand almost as though to slap Kurt. "I don't—I—you stay here with your other boy that you obviously care about!"

"Jack, don't do this—"

"Why not?" Jackass muttered, grabbing the rest of his stuff and walked towards the door.

"'Cos we love each other, of course I'm coming with you," Kurt said and grabbed his own stuff. "We'll rent a movie or something, it's just Lunch time. We can have some take away and—"

"In your dreams, Hummel," Jackass snorted and went off before Kurt could even comprehend what just had happened.

The whole shop had stopped their conversations and stared at Kurt.

Clearing his throat, Blaine said; "Well, I was right about him being a jackass at least."

Kurt swirled around and put his finger against Blaine's chest. "You! You had no right to act like this," Kurt said angrily. "My relationship might be destroyed forever and it'll be _your_ fault."

With that, Kurt grabbed his stuff and stormed off the shop before Blaine had a chance to come up with a reply.

Blaine stared after Kurt as though he was trying to figure out if the last few minutes had been real or if he was dreaming. But when Puck's hand grabbed his shoulder, he was brought back to reality, understanding that this was, in fact, very real.

"Smooth work, Anderson," Puck said. "Very smooth," he chuckled and walked away.

Blaine stared after Puck and down at the table and noticed his cloth was still lying there. He grabbed it and started to clean the surface again.

"Well," Blaine said as the conversations around him had started. "At least he's single now." He frowned slightly. "Or is he?"

**{Walk That Mile}**

Quinn was making lunch when Kurt came home. She was just about to put the lasagne in the oven when the door closed and a heavy breathing Kurt strode in the kitchen.

"There's lunch for you too!" Quinn announced merrily, closing the oven door. "Where've you been?"

"Out," came the reply.

"No shit," Quinn said, rolling her eyes as she set the timer. "With your _lovely_, absolutely _perfect_ boyfriend, perhaps?"

Kurt only grunted in reply as he sat down at the dinner table. "Something like that."

Quinn frowned and turned around, only then noticing her friend's flushed cheeks. "Something wrong?"

"No," Kurt said.

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

"'Nothing', you say?" Quinn repeated, raising one of her eyebrows. "I've known you for ages, and I've come to learn that when you say 'nothing' it usually means 'something' and that 'something' is bad. Spill," she ordered and sat down opposite him.

"Sometimes 'nothing' means 'nothing', Quinn."

"Kurt," she warned. "Spill it. _Now_."

Said boy sighed, leaning back in the chair. "You know that guy—"

"The hot one?"

He gave her a look, raising a brow.

"What?" she said, throwing her arms in the air. "He's hot! You can't deny that, lover-boy," she continued, giving him a meaning look.

"_Anyway_," he started again, making her muttering a 'sorry'. "This guy apparently works at Starbucks—"

"_No way_!" Quinn interrupted again.

"Quinn! Can I tell you the friggin' story or do you want me to leave?"

"Sorry!"

"_So_," Kurt once again started. "He works at Starbucks, which is where Jack and I were heading for lunch—"

"So you _met_ him?"

Kurt slammed his arms at the table. "I'm leaving."

"No, Kurt! I'm sorry, _OK_?" Quinn apologised. "I'll be quiet, I promise!"

Kurt sat back down in the chair again, shooting her a menacing glare, but continued his story nevertheless. " So Anderson managed to imply that we know each other, and Jack thought I cheated on him –" Quinn made a strangled noise, but kept quiet for once, "— and we had a row," Kurt finished lamely.

_I'm not surprised_, Quinn thought, but asked; "Is that all?"

"Well," Kurt said, scratching the back of his neck. "Not really."

"_Kurt_," Quinn began, the warning tone back.

"We shouted abuse at each other," Kurt shrugged. "And Blaine got mad at something Jack said to me."

Quinn froze. "What was that?"

"Blaine got mad," Kurt repeated.

"Because?" Quinn prompted.

"Jack said something to me."

"And what, may I ask, was that?" Quinn narrowed her eyes.

"Nothing," Kurt responded vaguely, avoiding her eyes.

"For God's sake, Kurt! We've already been through this once today! I know your definition of 'nothing' is 'something', so _spill_ _it_."

"_Fine_! Geez, Quinn, you're worse than my Dad!" Kurt muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. "He called me a little something and if I'm going to tell you, you have to promise not to get mad."

Quinn smiled, leaning forward to give him attention. "Of course I promise."

"Jack called me – I don't really remember, frankly, but it was something about a lay-around and a whore."

Suddenly Quinn was boiling with anger. Her arms slammed the table as she stood up. "That's it. I'm going to find him, and I'm going to end him."

"No!" Kurt interrupted, standing up as well. "You—you promised not to get mad!"

"Well, a small white lie!" Quinn argued.

"Sit. Down," Kurt ordered, pointing at her chair. For once, Quinn obeyed him.

"So what did Blaine do?" Quinn queried. "Hit him? Knocked him out? Killed him?" It worried Kurt that Quinn sounded genuinely hopeful.

"None of the sort," Kurt sighed. "Well, he tried to, I guess. He was very threatening. But then this guy in a Mohawk interrupted – he also works there, apparently. But I don't know—I can't recall the name," Kurt frowned, leaning back in the chair as he tried to remember. "Duck? No, no one would name their kid duck," Kurt chuckled and shook his head. "Buck? Ruck?"

Dread and hope filled Quinn. "Puck?" she asked cautiously, trying to sound nonchalant enough for Kurt not to get suspicious.

"Yeah!" Kurt said, looking at her. "That's the name—but how did you know?"

_Maybe because we might have had this intimate interaction with one another_, Quinn thought before smiling at Kurt. "Lucky guess."

He eyed her suspiciously before continuing. "So this Puck guy comes up and stops Blaine from getting too violent, and I tried to follow Jack but all he said was—"

Quinn zoned out, not really listening. _What was Puck doing here? He works at Starbucks? That's not really his style. I could go to Starbucks but—when? I could bring Kurt with me—wait, no. He can't know. Maybe Santana and Brittany—_

"Quinn?" Kurt's voice woke her up from her daydreaming.

"Er—yeah?"

"Are you listening?"

"Well—er—no," she admitted lamely. At Kurt's sigh, she continued; "But keep going! I just zoned out, is all!"

"As I was saying," Kurt started, "I was about to follow Jack, but he told me off."

"Told you off?" Quinn repeated. "With what words exactly?"

"Basically just 'in your dreams, Hummel'," Kurt recited from his memory. "I'm sure he's just mad for the day. I'll just try to call him first thing tomorrow."

"Call him?" Quinn repeated, looking at him as though he'd grown a second head. "He called you a whore, he told you off, and you're still hanging after him like a lost puppy? Kurt, what's the matter with you? Don't you see how he bad he is for you?"

"Well, it's not like there's plenty of guys in my queue," Kurt muttered.

Quinn mentally slapped her forehead. "Well, there's this guy; he's dapper and protected you and he obviously means well—"

"Who?" The sad thing was that Kurt looked genuinely confused.

She sighed. "Are you really that clueless?

"_What_?

"Not gonna tell you," Quinn decided. "You're gonna figure it out that yourself in time."

"What aren't you telling me?"

Quinn didn't answer, and the timer disrupted their talk.

"Lunch's ready!" she announced and walked towards the oven.

"No, Quinn, what are you—"

"Do you want salad?"

Kurt sighed and leant back in his chair.

_What does she mean?_

**{Walk That Mile}**

Puck and Blaine had ordered pizza for a movie night. After work, Blaine had simply been too tired to go home, and Puck offered him to stay at his.

They were currently slouching on the couch, Blaine slowly eating a slice of the pizza while Puck looked through the various DVDs he had collected through the years.

"So what do we want to see? Action," he said, holding up the first _Mission Impossible_ film with Tom Cruise for Blaine to see, but received no response. "No? OK, so what about Horror? Like the _Saw_," he continued, gesturing a saw with his arm and grinning. He faltered a little, when Blaine still picked the salami lazily on his slice. "Come on bro, you always laugh at that!" he exclaimed, obviously frustrated at the lack of response.

"Do you think- do you think that Kurt's mad at me?" Blaine asked softly, putting away the slice back on the plate.

Puck sighed.

Then pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Well, Blaine, I wouldn't know," he said after a moment, slowly as though to a little child. "Why don't you ask him?"

"How?" Blaine asked and hugged a pillow. "How on earth am I supposed to do that?"

"For startes you should, you know, ask the question to, I don't know, him?" Puck retorted sarcastically.

Blaine threw the pillow at him. "This is serious, Puck!" he exclaimed. "What if he's super mad? What if he'll never talk to me again?"

"Stop being such a whiner, Anderson," Puck snapped, throwing back the pillow. "Why don't you just check up his number or something?"

"Isn't that a bit stalker-ish?" Blaine hugged the pillow again. "I mean-"

"Since when do you worry about that?" Puck grabbed for a slice of pizza. "I mean, you're not one to care about-"

"But it's Kurt we're talking about!" Blaine said, as though it proved something important. "I can't just stalk him-"

"As if you haven't already," Puck muttered under his breath.

"Shut _up_!" Blaine snapped, grabbing his pillow as though to throw it on Puck again.

"Alright, alright!" Puck gave in, swallowing the rest of the slice and stood up. "I'm taking a shower," he announced. He pointed at his laptop, "There's my computer if you want to look up his number-"

"I'm not going to do it!" Blaine said stubbornly and grabbed his half-eaten slice. "I'm not, I'm _not_."

"Whatever you say, you little baby," Puck shrugged, walking away.

"I'm not going to do it, Puck!" Blaine called after him.

And then he stared at the computer.

"I'm not," he mumbled, trying to convince himself that it was a terrible idea.

But the computer was calling for him.

"I really need to say sorry though," he continued, eating his slice. "It's not bad if it's for a good intention, is it?"

He narrowed his eyes at the computer. "Fuck this," he said and literally threw himself off the couch towards the laptop.

"Just one text, just one little text," he muttered under his breath as he searched for Kurt Hummel. "It's for a good reason, nothing stalker-ish."

Kurt Richard Hummel, 52

"Not him," Blaine shouted at the computer. "It's not him!"

He scrolled down, past various Kurt Hummels, 10 years old to 76 and-

"Score!" he exclaimed, shooting a fist in the air as he found it.

Kurt Elias Hummel, 24

"Got'cha!" he said, pointing at the name. "Wait- where's my phone?"

He looked over the room, creating a mess on the search of his phone.

"What are you doing out there, Anderson?" Puck called from the bathroom.

"Nothing! - oh, there you are, my little darling," Blaine said softly, picking up the phone from his pocket.

He slouched down on the couch again as he opened a new message and typed in the number.

'_Dear Kurt_', Blaine began typing and tasted at the words. "Or should it be more formal? Hi Kurt? No, too awkward. Dear it is."

'_You don't know me_', he continued and stopped. "But he _does_know me," he said to himself, frowning.

'_Well, you do know me, but we've never really texted before, so I doubt you know who I am from looking at the number but it's Blaine._'_  
><em>  
>"Good start, Blaine," he said proudly.<p>

'_I mean, I am Blaine_', he continued. '_Not the number._ _Well, the number belongs to me but you get my point._'

'_So here I am. In a text. Well, not really in the text, I'm on Puck's couch. You know Puck? The guy I'm working with. He's from Ohio, like me! Do you know where it is? It's a few hours from New York. It's pretty lame there._'_  
><em>  
>"The point, Blaine, come to the point," he berated himself.<p>

'_Right, so my point is that I wanted to say sorry. I mean, for putting you in that scene, because I can tell you were pretty embarrassed, and I'm sorry and I just wanted to tell you that._'_  
><em>_  
><em>"Won't he think I'm a bit of a stalker though?" Blaine pondered to himself.

'_I searched your number on the Internet so I could tell you I'm sorry, because I am. And I don't mean to appear as a stalker- it was actually Puck's idea - but it's with good intentions, so I hope you won't be too freaked out._'_  
><em>  
>"Sounds great, Blaine," he told himself, smiling at the text.<p>

'_So that's probably it. I don't know if this text is too long, or if you'll even read it. What if this is the wrong Kurt? I'm pretty sure I'm right though, if you're not like, 76 years old, which I doubt. I mean, you don't look old or anything. You look really young, which you probably are. You're like, one year older than me, and I'm young, so you must be young too, right?_'_  
><em>_  
><em>'_OK, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. And I'm sorry if I'm bothering you right now. You're probably with that Jack-what's-he's-name._'_  
><em>  
>Blaine muttered a curse under his breath. He <em>hated<em>that Jack dude.

'_Ass_', he added in the text. _'Sorry. Well, not really about Jack but. Yeah. Sorry._'

He looked through the text a few times before he panicked. Should he send it now or later? Would he bother Kurt? He didn't want to create more problems in the male's life.

"Give me that," Puck's voice called from behind, causing Blaine to jump up in the air and dropping the phone.

Puck caught it. And sent the text.

"_Puck_! What have you _done_!"

"I sent the damn text," he said, shrugging while he read it. Then burst out laughing. "What have _you_ done?"

A bewildered look crossed Blaine's face. "What was wrong with it?"

Puck smirked. "I think it was really good actually."

"Really?"

"No," Puck snorted. He threw the phone over to Blaine who caught it with ease. "Too awkward. Seriously Blaine, you told about me? About Ohio? If anything, you should've _waited_ for me."

Blaine groaned and hid his face behind a hand. "I need a cigarette."

**{Walk That Mile}**

'_My future husband was becoming to me my whole world; and more than the world: almost my hope of heaven. He stood between and every thought of religion, as an eclipse intervenes between man and the broad sun. I could not, in those days, see God for his creature: of whom I had made an idol._'

Kurt sighed. There was the mention of God again. Ugh. But overall, the book was amazing. Certainly one of the best books in the history, no doubt—

_Bzzz_. _Bzzz_.

His eyes travelled from the page in the book to his phone on the table. He almost hoped it was Jack trying to make amends, though he would have rather preferred that he would have called at least.

He picked up the phone with a sigh, and opened the text message. The first thing he noticed was the actual length of the text, and then the fact he didn't have the number saved.

Huh.

"Who's texting you?" Quinn's voice interrupted his thoughts. Kurt jumped a little, having forgotten she was in the room too.

"I'm not sure yet," Kurt frowned. "I haven't the number saved—"

"Give me that!" Quinn demanded with a huff, taking Kurt's phone from him.

"No! Quinn, give it back!"

"'_Dear Kurt_'," she read out loud and giggled. "Seriously? He's for real?"

"Give my phone back," Kurt shouted at her, but his shouts went ignored.

"'_You don't know me. Well, you do know me, but we've never really texted before so I doubt you know who I am from looking at the number but it's Blaine_'. Seriously, he's this awkward when you met him?"

"I dunno, Quinn! Maybe! We've only met once or twice—give me my phone back!"

He snatched the phone from Quinn's hand and read the text message quietly to himself. Quinn watched his face morph into confusion and by the end, he looked up at her.

"I don't understand."

"Lemme see," Quinn said and reached for the phone, which he gave to her freely this time. "Oh my God—" she choked after having read it. "Oh my God, he's not real, is he?"

"What—"

"'_If you're not like, 76 years old_' – oh God, oh God, oh God, I'm crying," she hyperventilated, tears leaking from her eyes as she laughed.

"I still don't understand," Kurt interrupted her minor attack. "Why would he even send that text? And what's so funny with it?"

"To your first question, Kurt, he's stated like _dozens_ of times that he's sorry, so I'm guessing that he wanted to say he's sorry," Quinn deadpanned. "And for your later question; have you actually read it?"

"I have, but I—"

"Read it again and try not to laugh," Quinn said, giving his phone back.

Kurt obliged with a frown, but was soon laughing as well.

"OK, I can see the laugh in it," Kurt smiled.

"So, are you going to text back?" Quinn asked.

"What? I—I dunno, I haven't really thought about it—"

"Oh, that's alright," Quinn gave in suspiciously easy. "Here, let me read that text again, I could use a good laugh—"

"Er—sure?" Kurt handed his phone over and grabbed Jane Eyre again.

"I'm just going to the bathroom, alright?"

Without waiting for response, she sneaked out of the kitchen to the bathroom and typed back a reply.

'_Blaine_', she typed down, an evil grin tugging her lips. '_Of course I forgive you, because there isn't really much to forgive. I'm convinced you have my best interests into heart and was thinking you were looking out for me. On other hand, I owe you one. I mean, Jack was quite the_—'

What was he? Quinn wondered, trying to figure out the best adjective.

'_Ass._'

_That was the one_, she nodded.

'_Don't worry about being a stalker. You aren't. Much. You're nice enough though. And funny. So how about a coffee later? Or yeah. Tomorrow? Talk things out? I know you and I have a history_—'

Because no matter what, Kurt wouldn't ever be able to convince her that his impromptu night together with Blaine hadn't mattered.

'—_so a bit of talking seems in order, don't you think?_'

"Quinn, do you still have my phone?"

_Shit_, Quinn thought and quickened her typing.

'_So I think that is all. Seems like we're writing novels to each other? Love, Kurt._'

"Quinn?"

"Er—yeah?"

"What are you doing in there?" Kurt asked and Quinn could literally hear his voice dripping with suspicion.

_Busted_.

"Er—what do you think I'm doing in the bathroom, Kurt?" she countered, trying to sound annoyed.

"With my phone?" Kurt shot back.

_Oops_.

"Well," Quinn said, opening the door slowly. "I might have done something you will hate me for. At least for five minutes." Or days.

Kurt's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Did you send a text to Blaine?"

The blonde girl grinned and scratched her neck. "Maybe?"

"_Quinn_!"

**{Walk That Mile}**

Blaine was literally a glass case of emotions. He simply could not sit still. His phone almost burned a hole in his pocket and he went to check it every other second.

The diffidence of whether or not he should have sent the text—or rather— whether or not he should've looked up Kurt's number and started to write it. He wasn't sure if it had been the right thing to do, but one should always apologise, isn't that the saying?

So there he was, pacing Puck's flat, trying to figure out whether or not life was worth living. He was pretty sure he had made a fool out of himself. Which apparently had been happening far more often lately than before he—

Well, before that night he met Kurt again.

"Can you stop pacing, Anderson, some of us want peace and quiet. Keep your gay worries elsewhere," Puck drawled as he stared almost blankly at the TV screen.

"Puck!" Blaine turned around and stared at his friend. "I've got a huge problem here!"

"I don't care," Puck shrugged. "I helped you through the first part. You better learn how to take care of yourself."

"Helped me?" Blaine repeated, his cheeks turning furiously red. "Helped me? Is that what you call it nowadays?" He held up his phone in the air. "_This_ is a _disaster_!"

His phone buzzed.

Blaine dropped his phone.

Blaine starred at his phone, with the screen turned up and he saw Kurt's name on it before it blacked out.

Because Blaine had saved Kurt's number. For future reference, of course.

"He replied?" Blaine whispered and looked at Puck in amazement. "He—Puck! He replied!"

"See," Puck said, looking satisfied. "What did I tell you?"

"You told me nothing," Blaine shot back under his breath. "Alright, what should I do?"

"I think you should start with shutting up and proceed to read it."

"Stop being cranky," Blaine whined but picked up his phone. "What if he says that—"

"Shut up was the first step, Anderson," Puck interrupted.

"—he won't forgive me, or—"

"Shut up."

"—and never wants to—"

"Anderson!" Puck interjected and sat up on the couch, glaring at Blaine's face. "If you don't shut up, I'll kick your butt and shove you out of my flat."

Blaine closed his mouth.

"Good," Puck said, looking satisfied again. "I'm sure Kurt won't do nothing of the sort. Just read the text and get it over with."

The curly haired boy nodded and opened the text. He stared at it after having read it and then looked up at Puck.

"Puck?" he said quietly, still unsure how truthful Puck's threats were.

The other male grunted in reply.

"Kurt said he wanted to meet me up for coffee tomorrow—"

His phone buzzed again with a new text from Kurt.

He clicked it up and read it.

'_Sorry, that was Quinn's writing_,' it read.

Blaine's face fell.

"What did it say?" Puck asked, noticing the instant change of mood.

"I—he said it was some girl writing in his stand," Blaine mumbled quietly. "I should—I'll just— I'll be in the bathroom."

"Blaine—" Puck sighed but Blaine had disappeared already.

_Love, Kurt_, hadn't meant anything. Blaine kicked the toilet angrily and hurt his foot in the process.

"_Fuck_, that _hurts_!" he growled and grabbed his foot with his hand, jumping around on one foot until he lost his balance and fell down on his butt.

"Why," he asked monotonously to no one.

He was interrupted, almost as a merciful answer from the Lord above, when his phone buzzed again and Kurt's name appeared on the screen.

A part of him wanted to throw the phone against the wall, but he knew that with his luck, it'd just bounce back and hit him in the face.

He sighed and lay down on his stomach and anxiously opened the message.

'_I wouldn't mind having a coffee with you sometime, though_,' the text read.

Blaine stared at it, silently mouthing the words on his screen before he lit up like a child on Christmas.

'_I'd love that! :)_,' he typed back. '_When?_' he continued, feeling his mood rising despite the ache in his foot.

'_The day after tomorrow?_' Kurt replied and Blaine's mood fell a bit.

'_Okay?_' he reluctantly agreed. '_Not tomorrow?_'

'_Don't you have work tomorrow?_' Kurt asked and Blaine could see him raising a brow.

_Damn work_, he thought and bit his lip.

'_Riiiight_,' he answered. '_But you could come to my job? Free coffee and all. My treat :)_'

This time it took a bit longer for Kurt's reply, and Blaine squirmed anxiously. What if Kurt just didn't want to see him so soon?

But then his phone buzzed again and Blaine felt he could almost get used to it.

'_I guess that'd be amenable_,' Kurt replied. '_I'm looking forward to it! :)_'

A happy smiley.

_Kurt_ sent _Blaine_ a happy smiley.

"_PUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK_!" Blaine yelled over his shoulder, rolling onto his knees. "_PUCK_!"

"If you lit my toilet on fire— not going to ask you how you'd manage _that_—you'll be paying for it!" came the reply.

**{Walk That Mile}**

**[A/N}** _Hello again. It's been a while, and we both sincerely apologise for the the horribly long delay. The badboy!Blaine has now become a dorkyboy!Blaine, but keep in mind he's like this when it's about Kurt. We plan on keeping him slightly more dirty in the eventual progress of the story. :) - Sora & Elin._


End file.
